Dorin, Shik'skara, guests
Dorin and Shik'skara are a dual contestant in The Relentless Slaughter. Profile Abilities Leaving the ceremony in the middle of being ceremonised has left Dorin's body a portal through which beings of ether, gods and wisps alike, can pass through and be given a form again. Each of these beings speak the same language as Pantarei and Shik'skara, the speech Dorin doesn't understand. Luckily, someone else does. Shik'skara, while a few feet away from Dorin at the time, still served a mental connection with the girl and was teleported to the battle alongside her. He can serve as an interpreter. Hence the odd formulation in Name and Color fields. These beings hurt Dorin immensely while passing through, but once they have exited they can decide to stick around after some persuasion, and depending on the entity's strength can grant her anything from neat abilities to practically divine powers. Description Aside from what the ritual has inflicted her with, Dorin moreso has inabilities. Living since the age of 8 in an underground community she only ever picked up the most basic of concepts, like how snow is frozen water and what causes the next tissue to pop up, and it otherwise completely oblivious to technology any more advanced than her hair dryer in her bathroom. Wearing a long, ornate gown and high heels especially for the sermon will often have her trip and fall more than she usually does, being generally already somewhat of a klutz. Her figure is shorter than the average woman, though you could of course assign that fact to her still being quite young. The heels, although, make up for that. Her hair is a beautiful shade of chestnutty red, a strange color that seems to change every time in different lighting and from summer to winter and on which it's incredibly hard to just paste one specific name, long but gracelessly wild as by the empedoclean beliefs that proliferate in her community: Let nature do its will with you, you as the slave to the four elements in their eternal cycle of love and hate, and do not revert what changes they decide for you. When translated as if a holy scripture it reads: Don't untangle your hair or make any drastic facial changes, you are entropy's bitch and that's the way it's supposed to be. Wiry, unkempt and heavily entangled are her autumn curls. Her body, however, disobeyed the law that come to think of it apparently only held up to haircuts, and is perfectly clean due to her being obliged to wash it every day and pretty herself up beyond recognition. Not that she minded, of course. The start of the day was to the young girl its highlight. Dorin is also at the same time terribly naive and naively terrible at conversation of any kind. Often too timid to speak up and having the slightest hint of a stutter in all of her words, the young lady's conversational skills soon collapse into “oh”s and “huh”s and elongated “sooooooo”s before bashfully and abruptly ending altogether on “I better get going.” And all in all her current predicament, being sacrificed, meeting a god, dying but not quite yet and now serving as a gate between two worlds won't help her predicament. Expect her to panic quite a bit. Biography If someone had told Dorin this morning she would end up as a sacrifice by noon, she would have believed it completely, for she had been making arrangements for this day since months before. Every official paper to denote her death had been neatly filled in, be it with a queer look courtesy of the receptionist. An understandable reaction, since not a lot of people turn in files to announce their own coming to pass. The local media were informed when and where the public ceremony would take place, but around this time a week ago they had asked to document the private event. Their knowledge of the secret ceremony was mostly due to her own mentioning of the word public, though, so she couldn't really blame anyone but herself. She had promised to arrange an acolyte's cloak for the man. She remembered this as she got dressed in the morning. She had always liked that green tabard – acolyte's cloaks were always green, to denote their youth and possibility of growth – because it meshed well with her more or less wavy more or less red hair. She plucked at it a bit and realised that her hair really was a mess today. Pulling the white gown over her head, she came to notice exactly how much she missed the color green. But hey, you can't fight maiden fashion, she supposed. If she were one to break with tradition she probably wouldn't be here today. It was nearing eight in the morning. Shik'skara whispered to her briefly that everything was in order for her big day. She could relax now. “You can relax now.” “I know, Shiggy, but I'm still nervous! What I'm doing today is technically suicide!” “Don't use those words! Not one suicide ever bettered the world!” Shik'skara, being en entity of ether, didn't speak English as a first language, and as such wasn't that fluent in it. He would be understandable most of the time, but he's bound to screw up at least once or twice in a conversation. “Yeah, but still...” “Just calm a little! You've arranged everything to leave. The only thing you need to do now is visiting him.” “You're right. I'm just a little fired up, that's all. Hey Shik, do you think I could drink a glass of water before the ceremony?” “Well, you're supposed to be immaculate at the ceremony, but that's still long away. You can, I guess.” For these past few days, Dorin had grown used to the stares she more often than not harvested walking around unsupervised in the hallways of Kerke, her sanctuary of sacrifice. Kerke was mostly for economical reasons the host of the cultural event about to take place, and used its altar in the church of the same name and the underground complex for the Geengezichten also of that same name as a makeshift sacrificial slate. And while this explanation ripped out of context may leave the event sounding a bit bare, it would do well to know Kerke had, has, and continues to have the largest and probably the most ornate church in what could possibly be the entire universe. The public ceremony was to be entirely fake. For all to see Dorin would walk up to the altar covered in rose petals, and have a seat on it. Then promptly she would be engulfed by a latex dragon in a blaze of holy spotlights, leaving behind only a packet of blood. As you can hopefully tell, this wasn't the actual ritual. No, right behind the altar from which she would roll immediately after God activates the lighting was a trap door leading to the basement, which in reality was the underground community mentioned before. After some staircases further down, there would stand or lay or whatever a hole does, a hole. Facing perfectly north would be a staircase leading up again (which makes you only wonder why all the descending was necessary in the first place) and at the end of that the true sacrificial dais would be. An intriguing, recurring fact in every documented entry on this decennial event is that the Exempt – so they almost mockingly called the sacrifice of her generation, as if to say she was Exempt of living – always becomes entranced by the experience, and as if she forgot anything else in the world existed would lose track of whatever happened around her (one case even describes a fire entirely ignored, the resulting destructing but nevertheless a successful ritual) and almost run up the stairs on their own, without needing any incitement of their guide. Details, of course, vary from case to case. Today, Dorin would finally find out why exactly that was. The young girl, almost fifteen of age now, was in no way scientifically inclined, but it wasn't a desire for an explanation rather a natural curiosity that led her interest to that particular point. Dorin had reached the society's consumption room, as it was so cleanly labelled. For some reason, the water cooler didn't feel out of place as the centerpiece of the cult kitchen. A man in a green cloak approached her. “Dorin! Hello!” “Corban? What are you doing here already? The ceremony isn't until...” “I know, I know. I just wanted to check if I could get inside already. Security's probably gonna be tougher right before the service, right?” Dorin was about to ask how he had gotten in in the first place, but then she spotted two or three counterfeit flyers under his arm. “Advertising,” he laughed. “Works every time!” “Shhh! Keep your voice down! If they find out about you they'lll totally kill me!” Corban made a quizzical face. Such a statement was hard to take seriously coming from Dorin right now. “So when will the ceremony be?” “Full day.” “A full day?! Where am I gonna sleep?” Dorin shook her head. “You really don't even try to blend in at all, do you? Full day means noon.” “Oh.” With such an “oh” and nothing much more awkward silence swallowed the conversation. They both drank, and with neither of them able to discuss the weather conversation resorted to complimenting the quality of the water. They made smalltalk. Very smalltalk. Talk minuscule enough for the other to simply overlook it and not respond or even nod their head. Suddenly they both realised they should be going somewhere. In Corban's case, he should be retreating to a solitary broom closet. His notebook was loaded with speculations and theories about elements and traditions in the cult as a whole but most importantly during the sacrifice itself that couldn't and probably shouldn't be processed as rationally as he was intending to. Nevertheless, Corban was a person who simply won't ever take no for an answer. Some may say those people are the most dangerous of all, but in his case they couldn't be more wrong. Corban was assertive and at worst a bit rude, but he was a good man. So he was sure he would uncover every detail about this group, about the Geengezichen. He knew not only having over time graduated as a journalist but also knowing the Exempt in person since childhood were a good way to start on that lifelong dream. He sometimes felt bad about it, because in pessimistic moods it seemed to him as if he was using her to his own goals. Now, optimistic as ever, he knew he was here first and foremost to say goodbye. He had up to now always thought to himself, he shall be the first to reveal these secrets, but after this talk with Dorin and the evil eye of her guardian crystal he was weirded out in a way he had never felt before. In Dorin's case, she really didn't need to go anywhere. She just couldn't be seen spending her last hours not only with someone of her close material plane (every of her ethics teachers would have broken down on the spot) but to make things worse, a novice acolyte most people wouldn't even recognise, and to make things even worse, a novice acolyte who wouldn't turn up in any once-over through the annals. And besides, she really didn't feel up for chitchat either. It felt as if she was waiting at the doctor's for a report she knew was going to contain bad news. Dorin had sometimes described her environment as Kafkaesque. Everyone does once or twice. To her, it was a way of coping with her fate as a sacrifice, a way of refuge for those moments she felt... Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure at this point what she felt back then. The closest approximation, she thought and was surprised to hear herself think, was downright selfishness. Such an ugly word. No, it was more like a primitive, almost instinctive fear of dying and desire for survival, that at some times was able to engulf her will and plight to self-sacrifice. That fear, however, has long since died out, or at least has been extinguished by something else. Something grander. “Who is that, Dorin?” The maiden flinched. Lost in her own thoughts, she had for a second forgotten Shik'skara was even there, and was following the conversation. What was worse, she couldn't lie right now either: Shik'skara would notice her uneasiness, and her entire alibi would fall apart. Whatever she did, she couldn't panic, that would just wreck her chances completely. “Dorin, are you there? I asked who is that?” “Oh, him! He's a close friend of mine.” “Really, I didn't see him before!” “He's from way before I became a maiden. He recently enlisted in the guild, after hearing I was to be this generation's Exempt. I think it's just to say goodbye to me. It's funny, actually, when you think about it. He's the only person I got better contact with after becoming the Exempt.” “Dorin, I'm sure he's a good friend, but he's still a novice! I don't think you should...” “Shik. I'm dying today. Please let me say goodbye to my friend.” Shik'skara blinked inside his crystalline hull, chimed and bobbed up and down in the air for a while, as if in thought. To an outsider, the crystal would have seemed some sort of otherworldy volitant reflective windchime. Dorin noticed that Shik's always very soothing to watch while he's thinking. The orange wisp inside of him lit up in the azure shell and bathed the world around him in contrast. It was really a sight to behold, almost worth throwing every brainteaser in the entire world in his direction. The heating sprang awake, preemptively sustaining the kitchen's temperature. Maybe it started raining above ground, Dorin guessed. It was hard to determine the weather through temperature alone in those dreary days of early spring. “Shatter me.” “Whuh? What?” “I'm a piece of crystal. Shards break every time. They'll know you did it, probably, but it can't be enough to evict you. Until they assign you the new Shard you can do whatever.” If it were possible to hug a Shard, Dorin wouldn't have waited a second in doing so. But alas, Shik'skara would have to settle for her most sincere thoughts of gratefulness. That's why her answer surprised the guide. “You belong with me. I'm not gonna kill you just to meet some friend. I'm not gonna let you throw your life away.” “Are you sure? You don't need me at this point, I'm sure you'll...” “Shik. I'm dying today. Please let me say goodbye to my best friend.” The words were the same, almost spoken with the exact same intonation, but the meaning was entirely different. “My answer is and will remain a no.” If it were possible for a Shard to hug, Shik would have immediately. “You are a so kind person, Dorin. On time I wonder why did they even give you a Shard.” “Because I know I couldn't have done without.” Dorin's last moments were spent in her room, chatting with her one friend to whom saying goodbye would be the hardest task today. ~ The last rays of actual sunlight were blocked by the floor behind the altar flipping back into place. After her gaudy yet phony ceremony things would have to go very fast. Fake or no, the incantation's first words were already spoken, so the priest had to continue. Dorin hastily shook off her clothing, stained with fake blood as she rushed in her white sleeping gown she wore underneath down the stairs, accompanied by the same priest from the earlier festivities, who was gaspingly continuing the spell. Four verses were muttered, and at that moment Dorin set foot into the sacrificial hall, and at the same time the torches at the top of the staircase lit up, resounding through the room in ethereal tongue the words “Eskei, Dorin'ets.” The young lady had chills all over, but then again it wasn't exactly blazing hot in the bottommost chambers of the complex. No one ever spent a lot of time here, it didn't have to be. Dorin looked around. To her surprise, the room was actually quite bare. In the middle stood, laid or whatevered the hole she had heard about, along with the infamous staircase up. It looked exactly as others had taught her in the endless studies Exempts undertook, but a lot less ornate than she herself would have imagined. Less special, in a way. It really seemed any ordinary staircase. Her vision stopped skimming over the room to slid back in front of her, or rather slightly higher up from there, it stopped to center on the strange array of torches on the dais at the top, and the blur hovering above those. If she wouldn't have paid close attention, and squinted a little, it would have seemed to her exactly the same color as the inside of her crystalline guide. The priest continued the summoning, but now he spoke in a much less hurried tone, paying close attention the the strange language's details, as if this part of the sermon was much more important. Someone waved there hand in the poor girl's general direction, to motion her it was time to start walking. She climbed up, slowly. Her thoughts jumped from one subject to the other as she ascended, each step of the road more arduous than the last. Every few steps, she would hear the calming voice of Shik'skara, it told her she was doing well. Doing the right thing. By the time she reached the midway point, the sound of the incantation and the mild murmurs of the crowd down below were drowned out, but not by anything new. The sound dissipated, reaching only to her in dim syllables, only barely and only sometimes. Corban stood in an indent of the chamber, beneath a single torch that wasn't even lit, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible while still intently eyeing the ritual from the back of the room. He had, all things considered, a good view of the room from someone of his rank in the guild. Dorin had told him he was pretty much the scum of the group, but amazingly enough people were pretty dang kind to scum in these circles. He made a mental note to allude to those circles in his article and use it to refer to the structure of the complex as well as the people he was dealing with. Truly genius, Corban! Disguising his notebook as a sketchbook the young man duly drew the situation. It was time to reveal the truth. The blurry figure at the top, Dorin saw, appeared slender and to her eyes to have four legs, and something of a snakelike body. It was small, and appeared to hover, but definitely didn't have wings. The definitely-not-a-dragon beckoned, and rather curious, Dorin approached it. Some people in the audience might have been unsettled at the sight of Dorin slowly picking up speed, the eldest in the community knowing it was a common occurrence. And after all, they didn't matter anymore. Shik'skara remained silent, so she was sure it was okay. He had always been a much better friend to her than any other being, including Corban. Especially Corban! The nerve of that guy, using Dorin for his own selfish goal, caring more for the truth than for her! It made her want to... No. She calmed down. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. As Dorin lifted her last foot onto the altar, a sudden gush of wind and light took her and refreshed her face. At first the young girl backed away, not used to the harsh circumstances of the overworld, but she soon felt the light was nothing like what she had felt an hour ago. It was warm, almost kind. That same draft also blew and burnt away the fog before the deity, revealing its true form. A small, golden lizard crept over a larger black ball, skittering left and right, playfully but still loomingly hissing at Dorin. Its beady eyes glimmered in the abundance of light. It spoke. “Ba'ei, Dorin'ets, vehei'to. Vei'ma ki foi'ma skamt'mo riba'ri'eks.” “Shik, you there? I didn't understand a word of that.” “Yeah, they real gods won't waste the time on mortal languages. He asks you have to step forward and give him your body. Hang up.” The crystal now addressed the god. “Meki so'o? Ontai Dorin vei'a nai'to?” “So'oi, skara'ets-schiksei. So'ei Pantarei, paskai evai'eks-oinei. Ontai meskai'o paskai'iks paitei'ets?” “Ti, Pantarei'eks.” “Stit-ei. Pantarei, paskai-skeitis-ei, ka'ei Dorin ta'o veki ka'ei. Vehei'ma!” Shik'skara didn't seem sad, mostly because he couldn't seem anything at all. He was sad, but the only way he had to express it was a slight hint of grief, remorse almost of poor decisions passed, which hid itself in his words. “Go now. Pantarei says you go.” Dorin smiled at the crystal, and for the first time since meeting it reversed the roles. “Bye Shik. You're my friend, I want you to always remember how much you meant to me.” Dorin took a step forward. Her head hung low under her hood, masking tears, final streaks of hair stroking and tumbling off her shoulders as she lowered these in her ever present mixture of courage and fear. Dorin took a step forward, but looked back one final time, feeling uneasy when she felt her faithful companion for the first time didn't follow behind her. Dorin took a step forward, and had no place to look other than directly at the god's red eyes which she had up to now desperately tried to avoid. She looked up at the welcoming smile Pantarei gave her. It felt odd, but she was used to odd. Dorin took a step forwards and forgot about the wind and the light and everything of the material plane and all the sadness in the world. It all didn't matter anymore. Dorin took a step forward and fell headlong into a gaping abyss. Dorin fell, wondering one last time if there wasn't any other way. Wondering if there was a certain series of choices that would have led to her not dying today. Dorin fell and felt her body ache, pores randomly tearing open into rings of light, dotting her body in an otherworldy pattern, constantly growing and hurting her and- Dorin fell no more as she was entered into a battle to the death. Fears After arriving on the scene of the battle, Dorin will suffer an immense uncertainty over what exactly she had done wrong during the sermon to be treated to a battle to the death by a god, and fear of what might have happened to her society after in her eyes failing the ritual. She'll be left with a bunch of questions regarding her role in the world, the worth of a life in general as well as – and this is pretty funny in an ironic sense – a fear of holes. Category:Characters Category:Canon Characters Category:Relentless Slaughter Characters Category:Season 3 Characters Category:Humans Category:Non-Humans Category:Composite Characters Category:No Image